


Eyesore

by tempy_winks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Biracial Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, im also bad at summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempy_winks/pseuds/tempy_winks
Summary: Everything about Jesse McCree's life was ugly. His parents, his history, his skill set, and most importantly, his future. Ugly. Everything was ugly.Yet, Overwatch wasn't ugly, well, not in the same way he is. Hopefully the world wouldn't turn out to be the eyesore Jesse thought it was.Updates every tuesday





	1. Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever work into anything Overwatch, or in that case, any fandom at all. Hope you all enjoy!

“Where’s tha fuckin’ kid!”

The small diner immediately silenced as the large man stepped inside. The few people seated at the booths recoiled slightly from the noise, but once realizing the voice, seized all movement. Slowly glancing at the entrance, the men looked over at the intruder.

Standing at a staggering height of 6’4, piercing black eyes that could look into someone’s soul, and wearing an attire one could only describe as “greaser,” this man was the epitome of intimidating. It also didn’t help that he was displaying a large facial scar from his left jaw to his nose. 

Taking a couple more steps inside, the man glared daggers into the small cluster of men. To this, the small antrage of people shimmied slightly in their seats. Carefully meeting each other’s eyes for mere seconds, the shortest one of the bunch stood up slightly. Without talking, he shakily pointed his finger to a small door adjacent to himself. Slightly tilting his head to acknowledge the man, the intruder walked forward to the door while the men resumed their eating and chatting.

Upon reaching the opening, the man slammed his rather large and scarred hand on the fragile wood. “Mccree! Get yur’ ass outta’ there!” The man bellowed. Silence followed his thunderous display. Irritated by this disregard of his power, the man took the handle of the door and yanked it open to reveal what was inside.

Sitting inside the cramped, dusty, supply closet was a sleeping teenager. He looked young, with little to no wrinkles hitting his tan freckled features and lanky limbs that didn’t quite fit on his thin figure. Dusty brown hair being covered up with a worn-out cowboy hat that looked completely uncanny compared to the dark leather outfit he sported. He slept silently, with barely a whisper escaping him as he took shallow breaths.

Looking over the kid and his surroundings, the man couldn’t help a cruel smile from gracing his lips. Reaching outward to grab a mop from the small pile, he flicked it towards the sleeping mound. Following the motion, that mop, along with the rest of the mops, fell swiftly into the unsuspecting victim. The man couldn’t help but released a snicker that formed as the kid yelped in surprised then cursed his way to high heavens at the onslaught of cleaning equipment. 

“Mccree, I told ya’ to get up, should ‘av listened when I said it the first time.”

The kid didn’t immediately respond, as he was to busy shoving the mess of cleaning supplies off of him and back on to the wall. After finished with his task, he glared up at the man.

“How the hell am I supposed to hear ya’ when I’m sleepin’!” Anger and hatred burned from the lanky kid as he cleared away the remaining sleepiness from his eyes. The man simply scaled him up and glared back.

“Not like I was whisperin’, ya’ should have heard me.”

Mccree didn’t reply verbally to him, and instead gave a indignant growl as he gingerly toed out of the congested space. Upon hitting the cool tile of the diner’s floor, the large man grabbed the teenager’s brick colored bandana that hung around his neck and hoisted him onto the wall. Holding back a squeak of pain, the teenager clenched his jaw and brought his hands to try and pry off the offender’s grip. Completely ignoring the kid’s attempts, he let out an annoyed huff.

“Now listen here dumbass. There’s a shipment leaving by noon, and yur’ ass better be on that truck. Understand?” The man said, while slightly uncurling his hand around the teenager’s accessory. 

Immediately feeling the lack of tension, the smaller man shoved the larger hand away from his throat and fixed his bandana. Seconds chipped away as the intruder started tapping his foot at the hesitating child. “Shitbag! Do ya’ understand?!” He shouted, forcing the teenager to look into his eyes by just sheer volume. 

Trying to not shrink back to a smaller stature, the kid stuck his nose up. “Yeah, i’ll be there.” He barely whispered out. To this, the older man shrugged his broad shoulders and sauntered out of the diner. Once the entrance door firmly shut behind him, the teenager looked over at the crowd of snickering men.

“This is y’alls fuckin’ fault.” To this the snicker grew louder to a harsh laughter. Mccree readjusted his hat and steadily dragged his feet towards the group. Shuffling his booted feet across the weary cream colored tile, he spit obscenities under his breath. 

“C’mon Jesse. Howsit’ you fallin’ asleep in the supply closet our fault?”

Jesse grew red in the face remembering why he was in the supply closet in the first place. And not only did he grow red, but he could feel the lingering headache making itself present. Last night, Jesse, along with the couple of people who were now eating a light meal, decided to drink themselves silly. What the exact reason was? He couldn’t remember, and he could bet that nobody else could remember either. But, that didn’t stop him downing 2 bottles of hard whiskey and trashing any remaining brain cells.

Reaching on of the diner’s booths, he plopped himself down next to two men. Both with the same complexion of dark hazel, a matching set of brown eyes, upturned noses, and a dual set of shit eating grins. The only division these two had to set themselves apart was the mismatched pins that they had attached to their jacket. The one closer to Jesse passed over what was remaining in his plate, a half eaten burger with a handful of fries. Jesse mumbled his thanks and began scarfing down the remaining items, trying to help lighten his lingering hangover.

Seconds past in silence as the small group of people let the teenager eat in peace. After finishing off the meal in record time, the kid wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and looked at the small clock hanging just above the table. 9:47. He had a little over 2 hours to get his things together and anything else he may need, he could work with that.

“So troubled youth, what you gonna be doing on the mission?” 

Jesse slightly glanced to see that the man sitting beside him, who was wearing his famous shit faced smile. Eyebrows slightly twitching to reveal his obvious teasing, Mccree rolled his eyes. “Proably’ the same shit I always do. Watch the truck, listen for backup, and shoot anyone that comes close.” He stated simply, shrugging his shoulders in slight irritation. To even further poke the bear, passing over his supposed brother, the other man(bearing that same damn grin) began batting his eyelashes.

“Awwww’ c’mon troubled youth. It’s just cause the big boss man don’t want ya’ hurtin’ yer’ pretty little eye.”

Mccree visibly tensed around these words. Shoulders furrowed together and the kid fixed a menacing stare at the man. “Shut the fuck up Andrew.” Snickers filled the air at Jesse statements, further providing him fuel. The person name Andrew tossed a look at his brother then back at his victim. Slightly shoving him with his finger he whispered, “Awwwww’, did I strike a nerve? Hopefully it doesn’t affect yer’ wittle ey-”

“SHUT THE HELL UP ASSHOLE!”

The dinner’s once chatty noise ceased as everyone turned their attention to the source. Mccree was pissed. Face distorted in anger, honey golden eyes slanted, and the scowl was perfectly completed by the tense vein that was popping faintly from his forehead. Andrew’s brother unsteadily yanked his other half by his jacket hood. Andrew followed his brother’s gesture and returned to his spot on the booth. The tension in the air was heavy as Jesse let out a low growl and folded his arms across his chest. 

“He didn’t mean it troubled youth, take a joke.” Andrew’s brother softly muttered, tossing Jesse a glance mixed with both annoyance and sympathy. Sympathy, eh? Jesse couldn’t stop the enraged groan that escaped his throat. “Whatever, Anthony, I gotta go get ready.”

And with that, the young cowboy shifted out of the cramped booth. Exiting the diner, he was unaware of the light bickering the two siblings got into.


	2. Painkillers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the this chapter and I hope to be pretty frequent with these updates

Shoving his lighter back into his pocket, Mccree took a long drag on the cigar in hand. The slight irritation tickled his throat, but it was worth it for the soft relief it brought. The new mexican sun brightly pierced the teenager’s skin and although it slightly stung, it did hold a bit of security. The sun was constant, persistently scorching the gorge, lighting the orange clay to a hazardous temperature. It never changed, never wavered, and for that, Mccree was happy. 

Scanning over the horizon, Jesse took in the surroundings. In the far distance, Deadlock Gorge was casting shadows of people wandering and moving vehicles. Closer in his view, was the large warehouse the kid was leaning upon. It was dark green with rusted sides and choice words spray painted on the walls, and only one large garage style entrance. The door was locked shut and showed no intention of rising.

Taking another lengthy drag and slightly rubbing his head from the slowly fading headache, Mccree waited. With his other hand, he began tapping lightly to the rusted steel of the warehouse’s wall. It wasn’t as if Mccree didn’t mind lounging and enjoying his cigar, he just had things to do; and sitting outside of this warehouse on a timed schedule was not one of them. 

Yet, as more and more of the cigar faded, the large entrance finally decided to open up slowly. Once familiar clicking started, Mccree tossed the cigar on the ground and stomped on it, extinguishing the flame. Fixing his wide brimmed cowboy hat, he took a couple of steps to be at the entrance to the building. Once the metal door reached it’s final height, Mccree peered in. Standing on the other side of entrance was a woman.

Frail one at that. With almost little to no meat clinging to her long thin arms and a ratty dress hanging around her shoulders. Red hair tied up in a tight knot and blue eyes clearly showing signs of exhaustion and stress. Yet, the one thing that did make her stand out was the large rifle located on her hip and the small package of amno on her belt. Giving a light glance at Jesse, she beckoned the kid forward. He followed immediately, a lazy smile gracing his lips.

“G’mornin’ Ms.Clara. Hows’ the day been greetin’ you?”

The women lightly huffed and filled into the darkness of the building. “Good as any day Jesse, good as any day.” She hummed lightly around the words, tossing a look back at Jesse. Before the younger one could say anything else, Ms.Clara stepped forward and grabbed a dangling knob that was hanging just a bit overhead. Extending her arm and clicking the button, the space illuminated with light. 

The entire warehouse was stuffed with what you would expect; boxes. Stacked on top of each other and on metal racks, boxes where as far as the eye could see. Jesse whistled in the space, letting the sound bounce back on the walls. Ms.Clara gave an annoyed huff and looked at the kid. “Do you have to do that everytime?”

Not waiting for a reply, the woman walked towards the shelves. After Jesse gave faint giggle, he trailed after the her, not wanting to stray too far behind. The pair walked together down one of the isles towards the end of building. Gleaming in the fluorescent light, a singular red door shone. Once arriving there, Ms.Clara dug into her dress pocket for one bronze key. Slowly turning it, she steps inside along with Jesse.

Inside the mysterious room was semi-vacant space. A bed lay at one corner and the other corner held a small desk. Jesse helped himself and plopped on the mattress, reveling in the first real cushion he’s been on all day. Getting himself comfortable on the small space, he ignored as the older woman walked over to the desk and sat down on the rusty chair accompanying it.

Moments of silence passed as Jesse curled into a tight ball and rubbed his head against the soft material. Breaking the silence, the woman whispered out weakly, “Do you really need another dosage?” Jesse propped his head up from the comfy pillow and looked at her. Their gazes meet and the kid had a hard time trying not to look away. She looked so sad. Those blue eyes, filling with sorrow of ages far beyond Jesse’s time and a small fragment of remorse. It pained him to even keep eye contact until his face flushed red and he lowered the brim of his aged hat.

“Well, I mean, I-I might not ma’am. I just don’t wanna be out there and then get nailed by that kinda’ pain before we make it back. It ain’t exactly the most pleasant experience.” He whispered out sheepishly, wishing to tear open the covers and hide himself in their security. He slowly started to clench and unclench his fist just to give himself something to do instead of be embarrassed by the situation. 

“Jesse, you know this stuff is highly addictive if not used properly.” She said this not wanting an answer, and wheeled the chair closer to the boy. Jesse shrunk away slightly, tensing as the woman’s hand found it’s place on his shoulder. “And I know you need this stuff, I’ve seen the pain that it causes you, but, I can’t have you get addicted, Jesse.” She finished her statement by delicately forcing the boy to look at her again. He could have sworn he could see tears starting in the corners of her eyes. But he wouldn’t bring it up, so he pretended as if it wasn’t there. 

They stayed like that for longer than Jesse wanted. Just Ms.Clara’s somber eyes bearing into his soul and ripping it to shreds. He hated making her sad like this, but who else could he turn too? Nobody in the entire gang had any sort of medical degree, and although Ms.Clara wasn’t actually a doctor, she knew a hell of a lot more than he did. 

Clearing his throat to break the sullen silence, Mccree gave the weakest of smiles. “Ma’am, I promise that I have never, in a billion years, have ever lied to you and took more than needed. I just want to be sure that if I do use deadeye, I won’t have to feel it the ride home.” He tried to sound reassuring, he was being honest after all. Ms.Clara was one of the only people in this goddamn place that actually treated Mccree as himself, not as a child, not as a punching bag, not as a weapon; but as a person. And for that, the kid was eternally grateful for everything she had done for him and did everything he could to keep the woman happy. 

Ms.Clara slightly nodded at this but the mournful countenance did not leave. But it did slightly morph to surprise. “Your pupil is too small.” She breathed out, both of her eyes fixed on his left pupil. Tensing immediately, Jesse finally slipped out of the woman’s grasp and scooted closer to the wall behind him. Lowering his hat so his eyes aren’t visible, he lets out of nervous snicker. ‘Aww’ c’mon Ms.Clara, it’s just a little bit bright in here. Just adjusting to the light, is all.” He tried to sound charming and clueless, but he knew that it wouldn’t suffice. 

He was frozen in place as he heard the chair creak slightly and felt the hat perched on his head be swiped off. He then yelped in surprise as the woman was on the bed, hand clenched onto the boy’s shoulder, and searching eyes finding their prize. “Your other eye is fine.” Her words felt tight and unbearable against Mccree's ears. He tried to shimmy out of her grasp again, but for such frail arms, they felt like a deadweight on his shoulder. “Jesse...you haven’t been on a mission in a couple of days, this should be gone now.”

The once lingering headache decided that now would be the best possible time to resurface and Jesse immediately felt nauseous. But he couldn’t tell if it was because of last night’s affairs or the woman staring into his very being through one eye. Although he cared for Ms.Clara deeply and wanted to help the woman, she terrified him. She had been in the war during the omnic crisis, and even though those days were behind her, she still keep the same air of intimidation and superiority. And it didn’t help that her once sad composure looked as if it was being fueled by a raging hatred.

“How long has it been?” She expects an answer, and Jesse gulps in air and sends a silent prayer to whoever is watching his ass.

“Last delivery was..maybe four days ago. Five?” 

Jesse knew it was four, but he wanted to pretend it was longer. For her sake or his, he didn’t know yet. The woman suddenly gained a fierce scowl and her jaw clenched shut. “Then why the hell are they sending you on another one?” Her words held a fire to them. Mccree felt like running away, to avoid this situation altogether, but he still needed supplies if he was to do this mission effectively. “I-I-I dunno ma’am. I just do what they tell me, and Harvey was very persistent this morning.”

Pushing away the memory of Harvey tossing the stack of brooms on him and “lighty” suffocating him, Mccree looked over at the door. He didn’t want to keep eye contact with Ms.Clara anymore, not when she was fuming in rage. Sensing his discomfort, she removed her iron grip from the kids shoulder and feel back in her chair. Face still hot and fist clenched so tightly her knuckles were turning white, the woman walks back over to the desk. Pulling out a small capsule, she takes out two light green pills. She then proceeds to put the medicine in a small baggie and toss it at Mccree. 

“Get out of here.” 

Not being needed to told twice, the teenager swiped the baggie, removed his hat, pushed the substance in the band lining the crown, and dashed to the door. Just before he could turn tail and run out of the god forsaken warehouse, he was stopped by a clearing of throat. “Jesse...Try not to hurt yourself too much.” Mccree didn’t turn around at those words simply, tilted his hat and ran like a bat outta hell.

It was 11:39. He needed to get a move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats it for this time around, I'm thinking of doing this on a weekly basis cause this is actually fun to write, forgot how much I like writing lol. But be sure to leave a kudos and comment if you like, and thank you for reading!!


	3. Delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres the next one, hope you like! Please leave a commet and a kudos if you wanna!

It didn’t take more then 10 minutes for the massive truck to smell like smoke and nerves. The vehicle only had two people sitting inside, but that didn’t stop them from making their presence known. Driving the automobile was Harvey, with a cigar in one hand and the wheel in the other. He looked anxious, his left foot tapping away as his right one slowly pushed on the gas; making their speed hike from a low 50 into the high 80’s. Sitting beside him was none other then Jesse Mccree. Laying out on the seat with his booted feet propped up on the dashboard and his gun in hand, the boy could be mistaken as calm. But with a quick look to his nervous pout and the cigarette clenched in his mouth, it was simply a facade.

Cleaning away any dirt speck he could see on his gun, Mccree was intent on drowning his worries in scouring his weapon of any imperfections. Well, atleast the imperfections that could be fixed. The aged revolver had so many nicks and bumps in it, it would be impossible to get the thing back in perfect condition. But Jesse didn’t see to any of the ancient marks, just the ones he knew he could handle. So there the kid sat, scratching away at dirt marks, flicking the chamber open every couple of seconds to remove dust, and rubbing calloused hands over the handle.

“Mccree, If I hav’ ta’ hear that damned thing snap, one. More. Time.”

Jesse rolled his eyes in irritation and put the weapon back in it’s holster. Then gave a couple more drags of his cigarette and looked out into the horizon. “When are we gonna’ be there?” He asked offhandedly, watching as the blazing desert zoomed past them in outrageous speeds. Harvey didn’t answer immediately, instead, he simply flicked his own smoke out of the car’s window. “I dunno, maybe at like, 6?”

This answer seemed to displease the anxious teenager, because his immediate reaction was to huff in rage and scoot lower in the ripped leather. “Then why the hell we hav’ta’ leave at high noon, cabrón?” To this the older man shrugged, leaving the younger one to loudly groan. A couple minutes of silence past as Mccree fidgeted in his seat, never really gaining a comfortable position. Once he found a decent enough spot where he could relax his head while letting his legs sprawl to their full length, he sighed in annoyance.

“Man, why couldn’t they let me bring a beer or somethin’. Goin’ on car rides wit’ yer’ ass sucks.”  
The driver didn’t say anything, but Jesse noticed the speedometer raise a couple of mph. Enjoying the last bit of drag, the kid pinched the thing between his fingers and then flicked it onto the floor of the truck. “Aight’ fine, silent treatment. But imma’ bitch the whole way.” Harvey simply shot the deranged kid a glare as he started picking at his fingernails and whistling an old tune.

-

“Stay by the car, Mccree.”

“Yeah, Yeah. Comprendo. Estoy en el camión.” The kid flicked his gun in understanding and perched up on the hood of the vehicle. The 4 people standing around him slowly descended into the darkness of the night and slipped into the shadows. Rolling his back on the chilled exterior, Mccree gazed out into the night sky.

The small little band of Deadlock members made it to the delivery place at no later than 6:20. The gang members were anxious to get this show on the road, but, this was an illegal trading deal, and no business was to be done until the moon was the only source of light. So there they sat, around the couple of bikes and large truck and played poker(which Jesse proudly won) until the sun cast gorgeous colors across the horizon. They stayed watching the sunset for some time in peace, until the night goddess herself lifted into the sky. As soon as Harvey did a quick look around the train tracks and deemed the place safe, everyone firmly told Mccree to stay put.

Jesse, although extremely frustrated at the notion of being left behind, didn’t have it in him to put up a fight about it. He knew why he was here, he was last resort. If shit really hit the fan and the small group of people were forced into a high speed chase, you could bet Jesse would be in the cargo hold of the truck gunning down anyone who dared to get to close.

The kid slightly squirmed against the hood and looked into the navy abyss of sky. The moon showered a pale light over everything it touched while the soft twinkling stars gave the view a magical feel. But it didn’t seem all too magical as the cruel flood of feelings nipped at his thoughts.

Punching bag? Sure. Bratty kid? He wore that badge with pride. But lethal weapon that could take lives quicker than a blink of an eye? Well, that could put a foul taste in just about anyone’s mouth. 

Trying to clear his mind some, Jesse spun his revolver around his fingers. Studying the old thing did have a calming effect on him, whether he liked to admit it or not. It’s hard steel a forgiving weight and the handle comfortable in his grip. Even the small engraving of “Pacificador M.M” gave him some type of ease. Peacekeeper, his treasured item; given to him by none other then...

Jesse gulped aggressively as he forced down old memories, trying to keep them so far in the recesses of his mind that they would never resurface. To keep himself from falling into any other pit hole, Jesse grabbed his hat and runs his left hand through his gnatty hair. A light snicker falls from his lips as he scratches his scalp. “Damn, I need a fucking bath.” He mutters to himself, removing his hand from his greased hair and plopping the hat back where it belonged.

He then checked over his tanned skin and snickered a bit more in bitter remorse. Flecks of dirt and dried blood splotched his forearms. “Disgusting.” He stated, checking over each weird mark and grime that showed on his arms. Although it was a nasty sight to look at, the kid reasoned it was probably better than the bruises and cuts that were just unseen. Following his left forearm to his deadlock tattoo, Mccree couldn’t help but let out a sour frown. Not the only mark that signaled other gangs of his allegiance, but definitely the most prominent. He didn’t exactly hate the emblem, but he slightly wished the thing was done with a bit more care.

A snap of something in the distance immediately pulls the cowboy from his thoughts.

Surging up into a sitting position, he aimed the gun into the darkness of the area. “Show yer’self!” He howled into open air, not really knowing what kind of intruder was out there. Silence followed his demands. Giving a quick check to ensure he was fully loaded, Mccree jumped off the truck and looked around cautiously.

There was pros and cons to doing business in the dark. It made tracks harder to follow, you could slip around easier due to the shadows hiding you, and attracted less people towards you. But, that also meant that if someone wanted to find you, you would be oblivious to know. Mccree knew these facts, it was a necessity with the line of business he did.

“I know someone’s out there, don’t be all sly.” He yelled again out loud, slowly hunkering down his body to gain less surface area to shoot at. Yet nothing moved in the inky darkness and not a sound was heard from the vast space. Taking in a shuddering breath, the kid forced his body against the front of the vehicle.

The absolute terror and panic that was slowly flooding his systems was making it harder by the moment to take a deep breath. The darkness and lack of senses was making the scenario worse by each passing second in Mccree’s mind. Shadows danced around in the corners of his vision, and it took everything the kid had to not blindly shoot into the desert.

Minutes passed by as his posture clenched in fear and his breathing became worse. Nothing happening made him more anxious cause it either meant one of two things. One, he was simply overly defensive of the situation and it was just some wild animal stepping on the wrong twig. Or two, something was out there, and it was watching him.

“Mccree! Get in the-JESUS JACKASS! It’s just me!”

It wasn’t exactly Harvey’s fault that Mccree was a tight bundle of nerves, but spooking the kid probably wasn’t his best decision either. With the revolver perfectly aimed in between his brows and the trigger just seconds away from being pulled, Harvey could have easily been facing death’s door. “Sorry.” Jesse mumbled, slowly lowering the gun and forcing the item back into it’s holster with shaking hands.

Harvey didn’t respond verbally, but instead punched him rather harshly on the shoulder. Jesse slightly staggered from the force of the blow but didn’t let any sound escape his lips. Simply kept his mouth shut and slightly ground on his teeth. The kid then watched 3 people emerge from the shadows with each one holding a rather large crate. Mccree raised an eyebrow at this and cocked his head slightly. “Cabrón, what’s up with the-” He was cut off as the older man slapped the crown of his head, whisking away his hat and making Jesse take in a sharp and hurtful intake of breath.

“Fucking flaked. Just get in the truck in stop talking.”

Swallowing down a groan of pain, Mccree fumbled in the dirt until finding his hat then briskly followed Harvey back into the car. Waiting only momentarily for the cargo to be back in the truck, the hoverbikes behind him hummed to life. Seconds later the truck also began groaning in action, and Harvey slammed on the gas. To help the mood, Jesse choose to ignore the crack of something he heard in the shadows, it was probably a lost coyote or something, Jesse reasoned.

Far off in the distance, somebody swore and dropped their assault rifle. Lifting their black booted foot from a lone stick, the person tried not to make anymore noise. Touching their ear gently, they murmured softly, “Yeah, definitely Deadlock. Follow them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally the plot starts. and finally some drama


	4. Sickening feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this one and leave a comment/kudos if you did!

“So, nobody showed up?”

Mccree watched as the red striped ball slowly descended into one of the corner holes of the table. Letting go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, the kid hoisted his stick on his shoulder, and stood up from the pool table. “Yep. From what Harvey told me, nobody was even by the tracks. No footprints or nothin’.”

Andrew cocked his eye up as he watched the other balls on the pool table still to different positions and let out an exhausted sigh. Gripping his cue, he stalked to the side of the velvet table that Jesse was located and surveyed the field. Sitting on a bar counter directly behind the game, Anthony lowered the beer from his lips. 

“Bit strange, dontcha’ think?”

Jesse shrugged his shoulders as Andrew slightly knocked the blue ball closest to him. Watching it make a b-line to the hole in the middle, Jesse muttered a silent curse. Surveying the field, he pinpointed the black ball and walked towards the edge of the table. “I dunno. Not like I’m in charge of those things. I don’t even know what we was deliverin’.”

As Jesse lightly tapped the ball, he couldn’t help but notice the small snicker that is released from his opponent. “Yeah, yer only there for shooting people.” Andrew’s gleeful smile was filled with venom and unrestrained mischief. Gritting his teeth and giving the man a defiant glare, Mccree leaned his cue stick against the wall and sauntered over to Anthony. "Ain't people, targets."

He grumbled quietly, hoisting himself up on the counter and reaching behind him to grab a beer, he heard the soft thud of the last ball dropping into the net casing.

Breaking the top off with his teeth, Mccree ignored Andrew’s haughty stare and turned his attention to Anthony. “Your turn.” He muttered slowly, taking an absurdly large gulp from his drink. Anthony rolled his eyes at the smaller man and gestured to his twin. “I don’t like playing with him. He’s a dirty cheat.”

A estranged yelp came from the table as Andrew dropped his stick in surprise. Blush rose to his cheeks and he sheepishly brought a hand to the back of his neck. “No I ain’t.” Anthony rolled his eyes at his other half and grabbed 3 more beers from behind the wood counter. Lightly tossing one to his brother and leaving the other 2 to rest between him and the teenager, he suppressed a short snicker. “Yes you are. Let’s do something else.” 

Jesse easily finished off his first bottle and grabbed the one of the brown glasses located to his right. Doing the same motion of getting the cap between his back teeth and ripping, the kid started his second bottle. Slightly raising his stetson to get a view of the clock at the end of the dark gray basement, he grinned sheepishly. “It’s 10:12, maybe in a bit we can go down to the diner and have some fun?”

The first response was the agreed grunt from Andrew, as he drew a chair from one of the velvet barstools and sat by his brother. Shocked that he didn’t hear two answers, he looked to the right. Anthony was staring at him with an emotion he couldn’t place. It was unreadable, since it passed as soon as he saw and the man looked over at the game table. “Somethin’ up with you Anthony?” He questioned, taking a couple more gulps of his bottle until that one was empty as well. 

Anthony hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth repeatedly with no words escape them. This display even caught the interest of his brother, who looked up at him with concern. Anthony shrugged, placing his beer down to fiddle with his long sleeves. “Anthony, you okay?” Andrew’s quiet voice was filled concern and worry, which made the teenager’s eyes grow wide.

Honestly thinking, he thought it was incapable for Andrew to show any sort sympathy. He never showed any sympathy for him, but that doesn't mean he didn’t show any feelings at all. Sure caring for your sibling is more important than a stranger, but he wasn’t a stranger. They’ve known each other for three years. And yes, having your twin be injured is stressful, but having a daMN BRAND SEAR-

“Just feeling sick is all.”

Jesse immediately snapped back into reality and looked over at the two siblings. Anthony was rubbing his white clothed forearms in an attempt to convey ease, but the bitter scowl he wore was easily noticeable. Andrew’s lanky arms was pressed into his twin’s side and giving him reassuring squeezes every so often. Mccree swallowed down the thick bile, finished the rest of his second, no third, beer and placed the bottle with the other empty ones. Resting a hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezing firmly, he tried to give a faint smile. 

“How ‘bout me and asshair over there go get some water?” Andrew shot the smaller child a glare between black tangled bangs. But to the relief of both of them, Anthony nodded softly. Brown eyes meeting Jesse’s honey golden, the man nodded again in assurance. “Sounds good, troubled youth.”

Shooting the pair a toothy sneer, Jesse jumped off the wooden counter top and slowly sauntered over to the tin staircase. Taking tiny steps in booted feet, the smaller kid allowed Andrew to catch up with him. Once their shoulders were brushing, the duo raced up the metal staircase and into the main room. Shooting competitive grins at each other, they raced across the tile floor to the wide glass entrance. 

Andrew exited first, swinging the frail door open violently and almost face planting into the clay ground below. He narrowly avoided the fate by catching the floor on the tips of his slender fingers and pushing himself back on twos. Jesse soon followed after, clutching his stetson to his matted hair and tattered white shirt clinging to his body. The pair gave themselves a moment to breath between haggard breaths and lazily brought their attention to the scenario around them.

It was too dark to make out details in the gorge or of people walking around upon the clay filled ground. The only things that weren’t complete shadows was the diner lights blinking softly a mile or so away, the large warehouse slightly hidden behind a section of the canyon, the trickling lights of the railroad above, and the small motel barely visible in the distance. 

Mccree and Andrew’s eyes focused over to the fluttering lights of the diner. Tossing each other excited grins, they both began to line their feet against the fuzzy welcome mat of the building’s door. Spurs clicking noises against the fur and heavy breaths greeted the quiet atmosphere as the boys got prepared for a quick race. “1..2..3!”

The pair took off like rockets, both zipping across the land with flailing arms and hectic laughter. Andrew was taking the lead, due to his wide strides and long lanky legs. But it didn’t seem to bother Jesse, who was hot on his trail and desperately gripping both his hat and the bandana; which was riotously thrashing against the wind.

It was nice, a senseless fun with someone he didn’t hate completely. Well, it could have been even nicer if the building behind the running bodies didn’t decide to blow up. 

The explosion was massive, sending both people soaring into the ground. Jesse lost sight of Andrew when his jaw smashed against the unyielding red floor. The ground around him seemingly danced in the crimson light and the wood flying from the combustion appeared similar to flowers appraising the recital. The blazing flames stirring together the dark melting iron and illuminating the navy sky. It was a beacon of light in the shadowed gorge, reflecting the small pinpoints of stars in it’s own fiery brilliance. The smoke that started to emerge rapidly from the top only brought more allure to the gracious flare.

When Jesse came to his senses, all he could feel was pain. His jaw ached from the slammed impact, his body twinged from being forced off his feet and into the floor, and the ability to hear was momentarily gone. Planting his hands on either side of him to hoist into a sitting position, His body screamed at the movement. Groaning in distress, he barely managed to sit gently on his knees. Blindly moving his fingers up and down his body, he checked for any sort of bleeding wound. Finding nothing of severe damage, he sluggishly scanned the area. 

People were running frantically from buildings and into the cloaked gorge. The motel in the distance also appeared to be up in flames, along with the porch of the diner. Lethargically, the kid focused his attention to details closer to him. Andrew was only a bit in front of him, and looked horrid. Eyes wide in absolute terror, buzzed hair covered in falling ash, and lanky limbs attempting to stand. He could see Andrew’s mouth opening in a terrified scream, but nothing was heard on muted ears. Jesse didn’t dread on this fact and instead looked to his missing head ware. His hat was only a step in front of him, stuck barely underneath wooden debris. Reaching out caused his body to tense in disagreement but Jesse ignored this; he’d be damned with his prized possession. 

Taking a bit too long to apply the item, he felt his leather holster for his revolver. He let out a relieved sigh as his fingers teased over the metal item. Dangerous as the situation may be, at least he had a weapon. Once assured of his own protection, glazed eyes watched as people cloaked in black uniforms ran into the fray from god knows where, and started dashing towards the gorge opening and the warehouse.

Warehouse. Thoughts slowly entered Mccree’s blurred mind as he spat blood onto the floor. Warehouse, that's important. He couldn’t place why it was important as he brought the back of his hand to smear his bloody spit from his lips. Who was in the warehouse? Sluggishly standing on booted feet, he tried to ignore the nagging pain jolting up his legs. What the hell is in the warehouse? Hearing only muted screams in this distance, the child dully raised his chin to look at the warehouse half opened garage. The people in black attire were grabbing a red headed woman’s hand behind her back as she vigorously shook her body to get loose. 

Then it clicked like a damn timer.

MS.CLARA WAS IN THE WAREHOUSE!

Feet leaping into a sprint, Jesse could feel his body jolt in agony at every move , but he had to power through, he had to protect Ms.Clara. Each step filled the boy with adrenaline and he couldn’t stop the panic bile from creeping into his mouth. His breathing immediately felt haggard and pained with each foot forward, but she needed him. His body instinctively went to grab his gun, deciding that it would probably be important in the fire fight he was about to partake in. Body heated with fear and hormones, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling the trigger slightly above Ms.Clara’s attackers.

The metal bullet ricochet off the steel building uselessly, but it did catch the attention of the small crowd of people. 5, counting Ms.Clara; thank heaven above for having a loaded gun. He yelled something to them, his own voice was drowned out by the persistent ringing from the explosion. Unable to truly know if his words were even coherent, he raised the revolver towards the head of the man gripping Ms.Clara. 

He could vaguely hear shouting from them, but no words clear enough to identify. Ms.Clara’s eyes were wide as the moon, panic shown through every crease on her face, and mouth screaming something he just couldn’t comprehend. Registering that Ms.Clara was safe, he examined the bodies of those surrounding him. All of them(minus the one holding his gang member) had some sort of rifle pointed at him and they were all shouting something. Confusion was evident in their gaze, but he hoped he could use that to his advantage. 

Taking a inch of a step forward, Jesse screamed something again. He determined in that moment that it wasn’t understandable, for the uniformed men tossed unsure glances towards each other. Raising his free hand slightly, he reached it out in the vague direction of Ms.Clara.

Trying again to shout out something intelligent, Jesse finally noticed Ms.Clara’s tears. She’s crying? No, that couldn’t be right. He was saving her.

Emotions weren’t a good thing to have on battleground. Mccree didn’t realize his aim fell slightly, nor did he notice one of the men in the back raise their rifle to pursue a headshot. 

It was all too fast, Ms.Clara’s body heaved firmly enough to surprise her captor, she was then loose, vaulting for Jesse’s body, and then the shot went off. Ms.Clara’s body didn’t reach the cowboy, for it stopped moving and simply fell to the floor. 

Hearing come back to him slowly as he heard the offhand shouts of the men behind Ms.Clara’s fallen body. They were yelling about shooting to early, one was going off about self-defensive, another was shouting something about children, but Jesse wasn’t paying attention to them. Ms.Clara had a bullet in her back, and from the way it was bleeding, he knew it was fatal. The small wound was drenching her clothes in deep crimson, and gave off a light orange sheen as the fire reflected off of it. It matched her hair, he thought sourly. She’s dead, his makeshift caretaker was dead. 

White knuckles clenched onto the handle of peacekeeper.

Ms.Clara was dead.

The familiar pull of bloodlust was noticed behind his right eye.

She was a limp body with no motion, she had become a target.

Peacekeeper felt so weightless, like it wasn’t even an object; but rather part of his body.

Dead.

A small trickling of what he was sure was tears fell lazily down his eyes.

Like Ma.

Jesse didn’t remember exactly when he activated deadeye. He usually had much more control about this skill of his, but nothing could stop the sudden unbridled rage he felt as he raised the gun. The world stilled, 4 targets; each glowing bright white against the static world of grays. Too simple, raise hand and fire. 

So that’s what he did.

It was only 4 targets after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, something actually happens. We finally gonna have some plot in this can you believe it. But yeah, leave a comment or kudos if you like and see you next week!


	5. Room 0012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this chapter, a bit of barf, but not that graphic.

To be frank, Gabriel Reyes was a tired man.

The raid on Deadlock’s home base was a phenomenal success, with only 6 deaths on record(4 gunshots and 2 assisting in explosives) and less than 5 injuries. 7 gang members were captured and were currently being interrogated to see if there was any missing facts Blackwatch failed to notice. The only person that Commander Reyes couldn’t seem to locate was their leader, Colt; but was fairly sure he witnesses one of his agents gun him down.

But all of this aside, Gabriel was tired.

The strike launched at exactly 10:15 pm Tuesday, mountain time zone. Now it was 6:47 pm Wednesday, mountain time zone. And during this entire time, he hadn’t been given the luxury of sleeping. 

Nursing a liter thermos of black coffee, he trudged down the pristine white walls of the underground floor of Grand Mesa. Since he was the commander, it was his responsiblity to interrogate people. It wasn’t as if he minded; he was fairly good at it, and usually had anybody bleeding secrets within seconds. He initially held a more pleasant attitude and tried to slowly coax the gang members to reveal something. But that was 5 people ago, and he was tired. He had exactly two convicts left to sweat out, and then he could take a well deserved nap. 

Sure, the SEP chemicals did keep him more able minded with lack of sleep, but damn if restlessness and stress weren’t getting to him. 

Stopping short of a glass wall and a small steel door, Gabriel took one last sip of his thermos and read the small holographic label screen that was secured to the white wall. Andrew Bernal. Giving it a quick one over, he proceeded inside and witnessed the victim. Recruited into Deadlock at around 24 along with his identical twin brother, and has been missing for three years; but here he was now; with a busted lip and black eye to prove it. Brown eyes glazed with malice followed Reyes at he took the seat directly across from him. The commander sharply pulled out the metal chair, allowing the irritating scrape of metal along metal fill the room. Once fulfilling his childish desire to annoy the prisoner, he sat down and seized the man up.

He looked just like every other Deadlock grunt he had come across so far. Black leather jacket with sleeves ripped off, a white long sleeved tattered shirt, and crude denim jeans to finish the filthy look. Reyes rolled his eyes as the man tried to broaden his form by puffing his chest out. It was to no avail, as the metal cuffs clinked in refusal of the new position. 

“Andrew Bernal, is that your name? Yes or no?”

“Fuck you.”

Blood was spat on the table as Bernal tighten his jaw and sharpened his glare. Reyes really was too tired to deal with this petty nonsense. “It’s a simple question; is that you, yes or no?” He asked again, trying to get some sort of answer. 

“You know my brother was in that building y’all blew up.”

Reyes couldn’t help but to rub his hands soothingly in circles on his temples, closing his eyes to prevent himself from getting aggressive.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but your little gang has killed more innocent citizens then the government can bat an eye at. So again, is Andrew Bernal your name?”

“I wish troubled youth could get a bullet between your eyes.”

Reyes had had enough. Posturing his shoulders up and confidently slamming his hand on the table, he watched as the smaller man stiffened. “Listen Bernal, if that’s your name. Every other lackey I’ve talked too has pretty much ratted out the entirety of the gang. And-” He looked up briefly to watch the man take a haggard gulp, “I know for a fact you aren’t that high on the food chain. There is absolutely nothing you can say to me that will give you bartering points. I’m simply here to find out two things.”

Reyes took a sip from his thermos as he watched the man spasticity fidget in unease. “One, is your name Andrew Bernal?” At the simple, yet more menacing sounding command, the man across him shivered. He gave only one wimpish nod, to which Gabriel couldn’t help but to feel a bit more triumphant. Allowing himself a teasing smirk, he asked, “And two, do you realize the amount of prison time you are about to serve?”

Andrew froze in his spot. The once fear tinted eyes grew a nasty despisement and he spit again on the center of the table. “GO TA’ HELL!” Gabriel couldn’t help but to feel a bit amused at the temper tantrum taking place before him. Mr.Bernal’s legs were flailing rapidly, thrashing arms being held together by an unbreakable alloy, and saliva tinged with blood being spit everywhere. 

Gabriel was tired, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t above teasing criminals. 2 men back had already ratted out this Bernal, with multiple accounts of robbery, armed robbery, drug use, and murder of the second degree. He simply came to make sure it was Andrew, and not the other one, who was now apparently dead. 

Gabriel watched the act for a second, but then decided it was a little to animated and vulgar for his taste. Seizing his thermos, he walked out of the room. He would let the man yell on ‘till hell froze over, he didn’t really care. He was only one person away from a great nap after all. 

Walking down the halls, he let him drain the rest of the coffee. He was so tired of this, so exhausted from everything. Wandering closer to the room labelled 0012, he placed his empty mug on the sill of the glass. Checking over he read the small little electronic plaque. 

Jesse Mccree?

The very name brought a vengeful fire into Gabriel’s gut. If the gang members had an eye on Bernal, they had a damn audience with Mccree. Extreme accounts of murder in the first, second, and third degree. Multiple accounts of theft and illegal trading, both armed and unarmed. And to sucker punch it, he was apparently the man that slaughtered 4 of his own. He was ready to show this man what the rest of his miserable life would be like; and for starters, that meant no mercy for this butcher.

Shoving the door wide, he wasn’t prepared for the sudden onslaught of senses that came from that enclosed space. It smelled putrid and sour and took everything Gabriel had not to gag on reflex. Stepping away from the opening, the man leaned his muscled back against the glass. What the hell was in that room? Did the damn jackass die in there?!

“Ya know, you’re timing is a little late.”

Gabriel felt his mouth run dry at the comment. That voice was raspy and haggard, but it was young. Forcing down the surprise, he resumed his stoic face and peaked his head back into the cramped area.

Sitting in the middle of the dark gray tiled room, chained to both a metal table and chair; was a teenager. Freckles and acne littered his cheeks, which were completely clear of any sort of aging wrinkles. Chestnut brown hair stuck out every which way and curled slightly around his sharp jaw, giving enhancement to the already prominent feature. Small amounts of peach fuzz were growing around the boy’s upper lip and side temples, and Gabe couldn’t help to think that it suited him. Then when he let his eyes travel just a bit more down, he wanted to gag on the air.

The boy was sitting casually, legs splayed out in front of him and body postured to be relaxed. Yet, the front of his clothes, the chair he was chained to, and the floor around him were covered in a thick yellow substance that had hints of crimson red mixed in. This same substance was also on the chin of the child, and a thick crusted layer of blood was streaming down from his right eye. Just looking at the damn eyes made his stomach curl.

His left eye was glazed over, pain evident in the way his brows were pinched together; but his right one needed serious medical attention. The honey brown iris was the only other color that appeared, with his pupil being so miniscule, Reyes wondered if he could even see out of it. Yet the sclera was barely showing any signs of white, only bulbous red veins that just looked agonizing.

Gabriel wanted to vomit. This was disgusting. This was Jesse Mccree? The outlaw of Deadlock with one of the highest bounties and a dead aim shot that has killed so many people; including 4 of his own? This was a child! A child! Couldn’t be older than 18, hell, could probably be pushing 14. He was so scrawny, tall, but thin as a rail. Deadlock did have any other children running around, so why was he there! And why was he sitting in a damn puddle of his own stomach bile and blood!?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

The boy smiled carelessly, as he tried to hide the ache under false presentation. Gabriel got himself out of his own headspace, and had to remind himself to not plug his nose at the acidic smell of stomach bile. “What happened?” He mumbled out, not really caring for an answer and more interested digging into his front pockets to find his holo pad.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?” A soft breathy giggled filled the air followed by a hacking cough. “Y’all got some weird ass criminals.”

The sharp coughing turned into dry heaving as the boy tried to desperately not distress his stomach further. Gabriel tore out his holo pad and dialed the med. unit. “Commander, is there some-” 

“I’m in cell 0012, and need backup, don’t keep me waiting.” Reyes hung up before the nurse could even whisper a reply. Taking a step closer to start to prepare the kid for the medics, he watched as the once lackadaisical atmosphere the kid held, vanished. The bloodied child bared his teeth in vicious defiance and straightened himself.

“Don’t take a step closer, cabrón.” The threat was thinly held, because as soon as the words were uttered, the harsh coughing filled the hard tension. Ignoring the warning, Gabriel stepped a foot away from the table. The smell was almost unbearable closer he got, making his eyes sting and instincts wanting him to run away. Shoving away the impulse, Gabriel placed the holopad on the table. He thought maybe he could at least give the kid the benefit of the doubt, maybe the name was wrong. No way a child could be that murderous. 

What did surprise him though was the table being forced into his gut. Giving a slight cough, he laid both hands on the obstacle in front of him to steady it. The child was quietly growling, snarl filled with venom, and left eye watching his every moment. There was still clear evidence of injury, as the kid was still curled into himself and right eyelid sluggishly lowering. “Alejarse, cabrón.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow in confusion. Then, he let his eye trail to the set up the kid somehow managed during his alone time.(2 hours and 47 minutes exactly, but Reyes didn’t want to ponder on that) Even though his legs were still chained to the table, the brat someone managed to slide his thin(dangerously thin) calf muscles through the cuff and force it near his thigh. With this, he has been able to get his foot on the edge of the table. Smart, Gabriel reasoned.

“You ain’t listening cabrón. I said back the fuck up.” The kid’s voice was still tight and airy, but it held bite. A sense of impending danger that made the commander to curious for his own good. Taking only a couple inches of a step back, he looked into the other man’s eyes. Black ones stared into one brown one, neither losing contact. A clear sign of defiance. “Name, kid.”

The child scoffed, and without breaking eye contact growled back, “Jesse Mccree. And I ain’t no damn kid.” Gabriel flinched unintentionally at these words. He was the damn murderer. He was a child. 

“Just so you know, when your little backup comes, I won’t be the only deadman in this room.” That peeked Gabriel’s interest. Mccree was curled in on himself, shoulders hunched over to allow himself to take up less space, body slightly shaking from either pain or the position, and matted hair just barely covering over his eyes. And to put the icing on the cake, the once defiant stare was being replaced and eyes being cast downwards. “I ain’t the only one dying today.”

The kid was scared.

“I didn’t-kid. I called the medics.”

One brown eye flashed in both distrust and surprise.

“¿Perdone, Que?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the POV will sometimes alternate between Gabe and Jesse, depending on who is gonna display more "finesse" So yeah, enjoy this chapter and the next one will be Gabe POV and might explain some things.


	6. Lo Siento

Gabriel ran his left hand through his scruffy goatee and placed his opposite one to shove the metal table back into his original position.The grim and vomit on the floor lapped at the legs and onto McCree’s other foot. Not wanting to reach his eyes, the older man hesitantly waved his hand in the air. “Yeah, doctors. People to help you.”

“I bet nobody else in Deadlock got that lucky shot.” Gabriel’s eyes traced over the tired face of the kid. His right eye was shut, with new wellings of blood slowly dripping from the corners of it. His clothes were still ragged from past dust and fights, but were now covered in a thick layer of stomach bile. The only thing that seemed untouched by the boy’s displacement was his crimson bandana around his throat and his windblown brunette hair. It was unsettling in a way looking at the child. The murderer of a boy, with body expressing surrender while his stare pointed in aggression.

“Nope, but nobody else threw up on themselves, so you get to be a special case.” The child barked out a uneasy snicker as he looked down at himself. Gabriel heard the cuffs around McCree’s wrist clink in refusal as the child tried to move his body a bit up and farther away from the disgusting mess on the chair. Figuring it was pretty useless, he stilled and allowed one brown eye to follow the wall lazily until staring just over Reyes’ shoulder.

“Ya know, oh great Overwatch, y’all’s camera is broken.”

Gabriel’s line of sight followed McCree’s, to find that he was looking at the blinking device. It was somewhat outdated by Overwatch standards, with the black lens framing the middle of the area and a small red dot glowing slightly in the dark lit room. But broken? Highly unlikely. Athena would have alerted somebody if it was broken, and Reyes made sure these cells were in perfect condition only a week before. This camera was not broken.

Deciding that a light hearted conversation might be a bit more suitable until the medics came, Reyes asked, “Why would you think that?” The child nervously let his gaze wander elsewhere in the room. Teeth grit and eyes searching, Gabriel cautiously took a step closer, hoping the child wouldn’t realize. He did. Again the table was kicked back into the Blackwatch commander, but since he hadn’t removed his right hand, he caught the object. “I didn’t say you could come closer. I was just telling ya’ the thing is busted. Consider it a courtesy.” 

Reyes massaged his hand against his temple and sighed. “It’s not broken.” McCree looked the commander up and down and then lazily let his head fall to his right shoulder, hair bouncing at the sudden movement. “Then how come nobody answered when I was yellin’ at it?” Gabriel’s eyebrow lifted in question, to which the younger man shrugged his shoulders. The child looked so uncomfortable under the commander’s gaze, and in that moment, Gabriel damned hell itself for making the murderer so young. He always did have a soft spot for kids.

“Yelling? Why were you yelling at the camera?” Again the nervous twitch in his brows gave away to the calm facade the boy was emitting. Shifting on his seat a bit, he watched as the child began subconsciously biting his lower lip. “I just, eh, wanted to get-”

“Commander Reyes, what in god’s name happened?!”

The door burst wide open as the small group of medical occupants filled in, each equipped with a pristine gray satchel. Reyes slowly turned around, making eye contact with some doctor he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of. He was holding his gloved hand against his mouth and a shocked expression fixed on his complexion. Three nurses were frantically rushing into the room, but not before putting a surgical mask on. The doctor eyes stared down on the child caged in the middle of the cell. Before Gabriel could even try to supply information, the peanut gallery behind him had some words to say. “Well you see Doc, y’all really got the weirdest of criminals here.”

The doctor’s mouth opened to say a rebuttal, but then closed as he instead busied himself with grabbing a surgical mask. Taking one last look at the child behind him, the gang banger met the commander’s gaze. Holding each other frozen for a bit too long, Reyes could see the tension lining his tighten jaw and could hear the metal cuffs begin furiously moving. The child then simply turned his head away from the commander, showing the man his bloodied and cakey right side of his face.

Putting his hands inside the pockets of his black hood, he whisked past the doctor and down the hallway. He would finish the case later, after the last member was cleaned up a bit and was ready for questioning. But all of that could be later, right now, Gabriel just wanted a nap.

-

It was 9:46 am. Letting out an annoyed groan, Gabriel tossed around in his sheets before he reached his hand out to the bedside table and picked up his tablet. The light blue monitor buzzed to life as the commander began applying pressure to the transparent screen. He had disabled his alarms early into his “nap” and automated Athena to silence any texts, calls, or emails until further notice. He was going to get shit about it from Mr.Strike Commander, but he really didn’t care. He had to deal with necessary Blackwatch business before Golden Boy got the right to voice some careless concern or remind him of some idiotic deadline. So, ignoring all of the texts from said man, Gabriel’s attention instead was drawn to a message from the med bay. 

_J.McCree is ready for visitors whenever available._

The familiar sinking feeling in his gut blossomed again at the mere mention of the vomit coated child. A thick bile was tasted in the back of his throat as he thought back to the previous encounter. The child still needed to be dealt with, or else the Deadlock case would never be closed. But something didn’t feel right about sending a child as skinny and as frail as McCree to a high security prison. He didn’t want to imagine the kind of difficulties and hardships he would receive the moment his body would enter the facility. They would kill him, such a small kid against such violent people, that didn’t sit right.

_I wish troubled youth could get a bullet between your eyes._

The strong resentment clouded his mind as the words were brought back to his attention. Thinking back, Gabriel hadn’t even considered who “troubled youth” could be. But Deadlock only happened to employ one youth; and said youth was now in the medbay probably roped down and growling at anyone who dared get close to him. It was still baffling to think that McCree was capable of any sort of damage, from how fragile he seemed and the lack of any fire behind his words. But then again, he did kill four of his men.

Groaning slightly in anger and irritation, Gabriel sat up against the small wooden bedframe of the dull gray bed. Pinching the bride of his nose and closing his eyes, he let out calming breaths as he tried to figure out some sort of plan. 

_Then how come nobody answered when I was yellin’ at it? ___

____

Gabriel immediately stopped all action and removed his hand from his face. Eyes widening, he reopened his shut tablet and located the camera history of cell 0012. The video recording was pretty detailed, with the shades of gray perfectly highlighting the child chained to the chair in the middle of the area. The sound was a bit muffled, but still understandable.

____

McCree was the middle of focus, frantically looking in every which way. His hair was bouncing wildely and Gabriel could already hear the violent protest of the metal restraints. “C’mon miss lady, please come back. I was good the entire damn helicopter ride, compared to the rest of that bullshit.” The loud rattle of the chains went off again as Jesse’s arms started moving helplessly against them.

____

Gabriel made a mental note to try and figure out who escorted the Deadlock captives from plane to cell.

____

“C’mon! I know I’m a good fer’ nothin’ scum, who got nothin’ else to his name but a damn body count higher than his own age and of a bounty of a couple grand; but I’m desperate!” The hair swishing on Jesse’s face made it difficult to see his expression. Yet, from the way his body was hunching and the protest of chains, the boy seemed either scared or confused. Reyes guessed the first one. “Come back and I’ll tell ya’ anythin’ you want! Anythin’! You just gotta come back!” Gabriel silently cursed himself for starting at the opposite of the cell line. The way McCree was begging, he could have gotten some good answers without any of the trouble. 

____

That’s when he first started hearing the agonizing groans. It was almost unnoticeable at first, against the chains, it sounded like a faint whisper in the background. But as the video progressed, it was easily definable. The deep gulps of air, the sharp exhale of pain, and slow deterioration of fidgeting; something was going on with the boy. “Please.” He begged, borderline whimpering. “I just need my hat. It’s a stetson, it’s ragged and brown and old and I need it now. Somebody please, I’ll tell you anything.”

____

Pausing the video for only a second, Gabriel scoured the plain room with determined eyes until it rested upon a brown stetson tossed with the rest of useless junk on the floor. He had picked it up in the gorge, to hopefully give a gift to Fareeha. He wouldn’t even had guessed that the old thing belonged to Jesse. But it wasn’t him to decide then. Content with finding the object in question, Gabriel resumed the film.

____

The quiet groaning and inhales, slowly started turning into unbearable sobs and pitiful cries. It pained Reyes to watch this, but he needed some information, regardless of how heartbreaking. Each breath was broken, and the sobs were just on the wrong side of devastating. “Pl-lease. I’ll do anythin’.” The plea was cut short as the kid’s speech was stopped by a terrible cry. Screaming bloody murder for a few good seconds, the breathing quickly turned ragged and pained with each breath. The weeping grew louder as the apparent fight was lost on the kid. “Please! It hurts! I can’t take it! It hu-rts.”

____

One last look around the cell, Jesse’s eyes finally rested on the camera. And for the first time since the video started, Gabriel could see Jesse’s face. His left eye was blown wide with pain, his brows were furrowed together and creases of distress were lining his eyes, forehead, and mouth. His right eye’s pupil was still shrunk to such a inhuman size and the veins were slowly starting to color a dark gray with blood. Blood was falling freely down his injured eye, mixing effortlessly with the tears already falling. 

____

“Please! I’m beggin’ you! Anythin’! It hurts too mu-” The begging was cut off again as Jesse lost eye contact with the camera and closed in on himself. From the heavily detailed image, It was easy to see the kid was shaking, and the iron of the chair was also giving this fact away. The sobs were loud, but the screaming that followed was even louder. Unbearable to anyone, Jesse seemed lost in some otherworldly reality. Yet, as this screaming died down, instead of begging, something else was falling from the boys lips.

____

“Ma! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again, i’m sorry! He made me do it! You know I would nunCA DE ATREVAS!” The kid’s voice got louder as the sobs started getting more terrible and violent. “LO SIENTO MA! ESTOY UN NIÑO DE MIERDA ESE NO MEREZCO TU! LOSIENTOLOSIENTOLOSIENTOLOSIENTO-” A harsh heaving noise filled the air as blood and bile fell onto the floor.

____

And with this, Gabriel had seen enough. With shaky hands, the older man turned off the video, lightly placed the pristine tablet on his bed, stood up very cautiously from his mattress, and slammed a hardened fist on the wall. The pain stung, but the tears that gathered at the edges of his eyes stung more. Removing a bloodied fist from the now slightly cracked wall, Gabriel guided himself around his room until locating a cleaner black hoodie and matching sweatpants. Stepping into the bathroom accompanying the area, he began to get dressed with shaking hands.

____

He had a worn out teenager he needed some answers from. 

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Jesse and I'm ready for my boy to be back in the spot light. But the translations of the spanish are roughy, "I would never....I'm sorry, i'm a shit kid that doesn't deserve you. I'm sorry" Sorry, i use rusty teachings and google translate so if its incorrect(or if any of it is wrong for that matter) tell me please
> 
> But anyway, hope you liked and see you next week


	7. Special Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> out 2 days late, but here it is! Happy valentines day and happy reading!

Jesse wasn’t a fan of doctors. Not to say that they weren’t unimportant, there are plenty of people who would agree that doctors are needed. Hell, even Ms.Clara trained to be a doctor before she was drafted into the military. It wasn’t the concept of doctors that he hated, it was the actions they sometimes pursued. Like asking useless bullshit.

“Where would you sleep?”

“Up yours, lady.”

Yep, useless bullshit.

Fidgeting against the bands on his arms, Jesse watched as the nurse scribbled something carelessly onto the wooden clipboard. Giving an annoyed groan, he looked around the room. The pristine white walls were shining against the illuminating headlights, giving the small space a much bigger appearance. The corner next to Jesse’s right had undocumented equipment stacked in large cardboard boxes and medical machinery hooked up to both him and outlets. His left was currently occupied by a woman dressed in a sleek white lab coat and inky black hair pulled up in a tight knit braid. All a bit too clean for his taste.

He couldn't remember exactly what happened after the nurses sedated him. He had a vague image of someone filling a syringe with something, and could faintly hear whispering, but besides that, everything from his cell to this room is a complete mystery. When he did wake up, it was the first time he could recall being comfortable. It lasted only for a minute, but damn if it wasn’t something cherished. Whatever painkillers they forced in his bloodstream were heavenly, as they had completely erased in sort of discomfort or unease. But once realizing where he was, the good feeling vanished.

They had somehow stripped him down and put him in some regulated hospital gown. His right eye was shut with multiple layers of gauze and bandage. His left arm had several IVs placed in just barely above his tattoo, and his torso had leather bindings securely keeping him in place. Although the drugs they gave him made him feel a bit muggy, he could loosely register his right thigh wrapped in bandages, along with gauze firmly placed between his shoulder blades. He had actually been looked after and attended too, just like anyone else that might be here. The thought brought up a thick feeling of guilt, but he decided it would be better to swallow the idea.

Once the doctor realized McCree was awake, she began the useless questioning. On one hand, she didn’t ask anything about Deadlock and part of his subconscious was thankful for that. But on the other hand, she only asked personal questions, and the meer image of giving Overwatch any sort of dirt on him made his skin crawl. And to put a cherry on top, she was way too close for comfort.

“The mild profanity is not appreciated, Mr.McCree. Next question, what did you eat on a regular basis?”

“A’ight. One, i’m Jesse, not _Mr.McCree._ And two, that’s really none of yer’ business.”

The annoyed scratching again filled the silence as she scribbled down something. Another aimlessly shuffle and McCree was on the edge of the mattress, farthest away he could get from the women. Not far enough, he though, anger spiking his veins and making his teeth grit and hands fist. The women didn’t seem to realize, and read the next question.

“Alright, not wanting to answer anything won’t get you anywhere. How long have you been smoking?”

“Not really yer’ concern.” 

The annoyed sigh and more scribbling.

“How long have you been drinking?”

“Long enough to know I might need one right now.”

There was the damned sound again and McCree was so sick of this. Opening his mouth to bark out a warning, and already producing a accusatory finger hidden beneath the sheets, the metal door on his left hesitantly squeaked open. The women stopped writing and turned meekly to look at the person stepping in. Scarred skin, black hoodie, hollow eyes, and weak smile. 

That same asshole from before.

“Commander Reyes, I’ll take my leave now.” Reyes, note taken. 

The women immediately stepped up from her seat and folded down the countless papers. Putting the clipboard on a small metal hook attached to McCree’s bed, she maneuvered around the man and snaked out into the unseen hallway. The commander watched her leave momentarily, before he turned his full attention back to the damaged kid.

Jesse turned his face away from the man as he replaced the spot the woman had on the chair. He did not want to see this so called, “commander.” It was all too obvious that he wanted to lure Jesse with a nice treatment to get some answers, but it wouldn’t work. He’s been through worse; this Reyes man can ask questions and yell for all he’s worth, but he wasn’t getting shit from Jesse. And he needed some personal space for christ sake.

“Listen kid, I-”

“Too close.” He hadn’t really meant to say that. The words slipped through bared teeth quicker then he could stop them. But dammit, he needed to backup. Just a bit. He instinctively flinched away at the man, expecting some sort of fist or blunt object to meet his words; not him pushing the chair against the wall and then sitting back down. The gesture made Jesse’s head whip around and make eye contact.

“Far enough?” The older man whispered, eyes casting downward to watch his own hands fold over his torso. Wary of the man’s presence, Jesse tensed his shoulders and pushed himself slightly higher on the pillow resting against his back. In his position, he nodded slightly and watched. He looked the same as he did however long ago Jesse saw him. With the only difference being a small drawstring bag thrown over his shoulder.

The commander reached forward briefly to grab the clipboard the nurse left, looked over the papers for a moment, and then dropped the object on the floor. Looking at Jesse’s upper half, and letting out a irritated sigh, he ran his hand over a goose bumped elbow. Busted knuckles poorly wrapped in bandages is what caught the teenager’s attention. But he decided not to focus on it. Not now anyway, it would be ammo for later. 

“Listen kid, I just want to ask you only a couple of questions.”

Blind hatred fueled Jesse as he gave his best shot of a glare. It was considerably harder to achieve a substantial one without two eyes. But it would have to do for the moment. The machine beside him started beating at a accelerate rate, matching up to his own heart. The man seemed to ignore all of these signs of hostility and looked blindly at one of the tiled walls. “Is this…”

Absolute silence greeted the words as Gabriel stopped midway and grabbed the small bag that was hastily thrown around his shoulder. Fiddling in the thing for a few seconds, he pulled out a rather aged brown stetson.

For a second, Jesse completely forgot his hatred of the man. Eyeing the ragged item, his face lit up as he tried to reach for the hat. The leather restraints kept him in place, but they didn’t stop the noticeable grin spreading on the child’s lips. Reyes noticed the immediate reaction and waved the headwear openly in front of him. 

“This yours?”

As soon as the question was dangling in the air, Jesse knew something was dreadfully wrong. The words were uttered in a distinct lack of malice, almost a bit too overkill. The creeping smile faded back into the unwavering scowl as the boy fell back into his plush caged bed. McCree knew a set up when he saw one, and there was no way on god's green Earth he would fall for this.

“Nope,” Jesse popped the last contant for added effect, “never seen it before in my life.” Gripping the brim of the object, Reyes waved the item again, this time with a bit more vigor. “You sure, cause’ in the video feed you were pretty deliberate in saying you owned a hat almost identical to this.” Crimson seeped into Jesse’s cheeks as he recalled what he said during his time of weakness. 

“Ain’t mean I’ve seen that hat before. Must’a been another hat you missed.” Jesse only felt a little bad lying through his teeth. Feiging a sense of superiority, Jesse sized the man up and lazily sighed. “Could have done a lil’ more research if yer’ just gonna bring in any hat y’all see.” The commander laughed slightly at the boy’s words, which made Jesse’s face darken even more in color. Shaking his head and letting the cheerful laugh loose it’s peppiness, he spun the ratted object on his index finger. 

“This is the only stetson that was found in all of the gorge, and most importantly, you’re the only Deadlock member that has been noted to wear one.” Checkmate. Letting an estranged hiss escape his lips and clenching his fists, Jesse stared daggers into the man before he turned his attention to the heart rate monitor that was spiking in numbers. “Who cares, not like I need it now. Missed yer’ opportunity.”

The heart monitor didn’t stop it’s insistent beeping much to Jesse’s frustrated. How was he supposed to pretend he had the situation under control if this damn machine kept giving away how afraid he really was? An angered frown meet his lips as he tried to reposition his legs. More restraints were also tied to his ankles, and prevented any moment besides a slight hitch of the knee. They really were using all precautions with him. The thought only barely stroked his pride, but it did more to fuel the deepening pit of terror.

Even though they just spent who knows how long getting Jesse clean and taken care of, they still could easily kill him. A single bullet between the eyes would be all it took, and he should know. He’s already done it many times before. How many bullets did he put in other people’s skull? What makes him any greater than anything else?

“I know I did. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering what this is.” A muffled plop sound was barely heard over the raging beeping as something fell into the commander’s hand. Jesse expected it to be a knife in all honesty, but was only half surprised to find one light green pill placed in a small baggie. 

“I had the other one analyzed, and it says this thing is pretty much entirely made of oxycodone, heparin, and hydromorphone.” Bringing the small item into forefront, Jesse watched as the man scanned over the pill. “All highly addictive drugs, _extremely addictive._ ” Reyes’ eyes flicked from the small pill to the bed where Jesse’s shoulder’s began tensing. “I ain’t some damn druggie, if that's what yer’ implin’. I got a bit more sense than that.”

The air around them grew tense as the commander glared at the scrawny boy. McCree did not relent in staring back at him with a unwavering gaze and tightened fist. Jesse would be the first to admit, an alcohol and tobacco problem? A strong maybe. But he promised Ms.Clara years back he would never venture into drugs, and he wasn’t about to break that promise anytime soon. Hollowed eyes met defiant ones as the commander turned back to look at the medication.

“Well, I hope you do. I saw your little meltdown earlier, by the way. Looked bad, sorry you had to go through that, kid.” McCree let out an aggravated snort as the heart monitor started slowly descending in tempo and modested out. Taking this as a time of calm, the commander dropped the small bag into the tin trash can beside the door.

“When watching it over the first couple of times, I thought it might be due to withdrawals. And then when I found those little pills hidden in your hat, I was so sure that was the answer. A scrawny thing like you would suffer harsh relapse on drugs as hard as those. But before I stopped here, I went in the labs to see what the doctors had to say about your little condition. And, you know what? The blood samples we received showed that you are completely drug free. So, I know you aren’t lying about the addict thing.”

The smug grin appeared momentarily on Jesse’s lips at the words. It felt so satisfying being right for once. “But something that I’m still trying to figure out, and I’m hoping you can help me a bit, is why those pills had heparin.” The commander gazed traveled over to Jesse’s right side, and the boy could barely resist the urge to cover his bad eye up with either his hair or just by turning away all together; but he felt glued to his spot and his body frozen in place. 

“Those things already had pain killers, so, why did it need more of anything to get you high? I didn’t get it, until I checked up with the doctors on what was wrong with your eye. Your right, and only your right amazingly, had multitudes of problems, most dealing with hemorrhages. Blood clots, to put it simply.”

Jesse gulped involuntarily as the man before him stood from his resting position and took a couple of steps forward. The heart monitor again began it’s horrible beeping, and the kid couldn’t find the heart to be annoyed with it. Not with his mind already blocking out any other emotion but fear. His breathing quickly became unsteady and he uselessly struggled against the restraints on his body. 

“C’mon, jefe. Just go back to sittin.’” The words that left Jesse’s mouth sounded more hysterical and pleading then he meant them too. But this situation was all too familiar. And the outcome last time was a poorly done tattoo and years of childhood he’ll never be able to get back.

Commander Reyes stopped in his tracks as the scrawny boy in front of him tried to blink away the tears appearing in his eye. The machine beside the bed was reading terribly high rates, and the child’s paleing face proved it. Trying to regain some composure, Reyes ran his hand through his goatee in a mindless display. “Your eye, kid. You knew it would clot up like that, didn’t you. And i’m going to guess you’re aware of how it’s caused.”

The small nod that followed was all the encouragement the man needed. This kid couldn’t go to jail. Not with his condition, not with his information, not with anything that he’s been put through. It was too unfair. Against the law or not, Gabriel needed reassurance that he would at least receive some sort of chance. 

“Kid. Whatever medical problems you have looks like it won’t clear up that quickly, and I don’t think any prison system will even think twice on letting you die from it. So how about, you tell me what I need to know, get patched up properly, and join Blackwatch. You’ll be signing your life away, but at least it won’t be jail time. Hell, I’ll even throw in a extra bonus and clean your damn record if you follow orders and do as your told.”

The unwavering contact of Jesse’s good eye faltered as disbelief and dubiety seeped into his expression. Opening and closing his mouth, trying to think of something at least intelligent to say before he simply quirked a good brow at the man. “Yer’ shittin’ me, right? You gotta be shittin’ me.” Reyes shrugged his shoulders and plopped back down on his chair. 

“It’s an offer, your choice to take it or leave it.”

“I bet nobody else in Deadlock got any sort of option like this.”

“Nope, but you’re a bit more useful, so you get to be a special case.”

Light hearted laughter filled the air as Jesse tried to keep his own hysteria and frayed nerves at rest. “So, I get to join whatever-the-hell Blackwatch is, or I get to rot in jail?” Reyes shrugged again and instead started mindlessly looking over his callused hands and broken fingernails. 

“Yep, and if I were you. I don’t think such a scrawny kid will fit in at prison.”

“O’ why not, you don’t think I can take care of myself?

“In a gunfight? Maybe. Against people twice your size and with no chance of you ever reaching their strength? No, not particularly.”

A haughty huff filled the air as Jesse raised his brows. “You don’t think that’s what I did my entire time at Deadlock?” The question was greeted with an easy expression as the man folded his one leg and leaned back on the chair. “I know for a fact you didn’t take on people without a gun.” Jesse pointed again an unseen finger and furrowed his expression. “That’s because I’m good with a gun.”

“Never said you weren’t. Actually, I heard you had the best shot in Deadlock and they would even send you on missions to simply shoot if things turned south.” 

Deadlock really did have a whole load of snitches, Jesse realized.

“And if these shooting abilities are all they are said to be, I would feel bad letting that skill go to waste. So how about it, join Blackwatch. Prove to me how great these _skills_ really are.”

_He' great, Colt! I promise! I wouldn’t lie about s’mnthin’ like this would ay’!_

Jesse laughed again at the irony of the situation. Last time this happened, he gave his life away to Deadlock, now he was supposed to sign a contract with some new devil? The laugh quickly turned bitter as a toothy smile landed on the boy’s lips. What’s wrong with one more demon to deal with?

“Sure, cabron. Sign me up for whatever ugly shit you want me doin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooohhhhhhh this was my least favorite chapter to write. It's a bit wordy for my taste and we all knew Jesse was going to join Blackwatch, I just didn't want to draw it out any longer. Also, oxycodon and hydromophone are very strong pain killers while herpatin is a blood thinner(for those that are wondering) but yeah, theres your chapter, leave a kudos or comment if you like and see you next week


	8. One left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoys!

_"Mijo! Put that gun down!”_

_Before a protest could even leave Jesse’s mouth, delicate fingers wrapped around the metal weapon and was harshly tugged from his hand. The women then gracefully placed the item back onto the table it was originally perched on. Once settling it perfectly so that the barrel gleamed brightly in the midday desert sun, she turned around and faced Jesse._

_She was glorious. She always was. Freckled like him, hair darker then his but only by a couple shades, and tanned skin that was slightly darker than his own. “Mijo, what did I tell you about Peacekeeper?”_

_Caught red handed. Shuffling his feet, Jesse stared down at the white tile floor of the dining room. Fidgeting with his hands behind his back, he couldn’t meet her stern gaze. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone, it wasn’t as if the item was loaded anyway. Jesse knew the amno was stashed away under her mattress, so he really only wanted to play for a bit._

_The woman sighed lightly and laid gently hands on his shoulders. Jesse’s eyes never left the floor even though it was now obscured by her long yellow sunflower dress. “Mijo, Mírame.” Jesse begrudgingly looked up to meet her face._

_She was so pretty. Prettiest person on the Earth, and nothing nobody said would ever convince him otherwise. Soft features, gracious skin, and nurturing eyes, Jesse loved her. Just maybe didn’t love the look she had fixed on him. “What did I say about Peacekeeper?” Although it was asked lightly, Jesse knew she demanded an answer._

_Swallowing down a thick bile in his throat and blinking away the tears just forming along his eyes, McCree bit his lower lip. “We don’t touch Peacekeeper, unless…” He paused. He knew the answer. But he just wanted to play with it, so why couldn’t he touch it. Just for a moment, at least. “Unless someone disturbs the peace.” She finished the statement for him. Sighing to herself, the woman rubbed her hands along McCree arms._

_“Mijo, we don’t play with real guns. No people your age should be playing with real guns.” She said her words softly, but Jesse knew a command when he heard one. Don’t touch Peacekeeper, plain and simple. Jesse knew he wasn’t going to have his way, but he at least wanted to try. “But what if-”_

_“No what if’s, Mijo. We don’t play with real guns. We could really hurt someone, kill them even.”_

_When the woman brought Jesse to look at her, her face was gone. She was gone. Replaced by him._

_He was not her. Where she was beautiful and stunning, he was disgusting and vile. Tanned skin perfectly matching Jesse’s, brown hair perfectly matching Jesse’s, honey brown eyes perfectly matching Jesse’s; the only real difference that could be made was the wild frown lines and scars dotting the man’s complexion. It made Jesse sick._

_The gentle touch of her fingers were gone and was now the forceful squeeze on his jaw. Tears ran down his eyes wildly and he couldn’t avoid the furious glare that went through his soul. “Jesse, what the hell ‘ave I told you ‘bout missin’.” A clear threat, Jesse knew one when he heard one._

_Everything hurt. His eye hurt. His jaw hurt. His knees hurt. His arm hurt. His back hurt. It all just hurt. And he had caused it all._

_“I-I-I didn’t mean it!” The words trembled once they left his lips, and he barely resisted the want to unlatch himself from those filthy hands. The man simply stared back in both frustration and embarrassment. The unrelenting gaze and hands only left him once Jesse felt a firm smack on the top of his head. Falling uselessly to the ground, Jesse tried to wipe away the blinding tears, now slightly pink since mixing with blood._

_Someone spoke behind him, and the man answered in the same savage tone as always. Looking around at the New Mexican desert sand, he located Peacekeeper not even a full twelve inches away. Nudging forward, he barely scraped his raw and bloodied knuckles over the worn metal item._

_“Put it down, boy. You ‘ready fucked up fer tha’ ‘night.”_

_Shaking hands traced over the weapon’s trigger. Realizing the footsteps behind him, Jesse froze. They would beat him again, he was sure of it. But he had Peacekeeper, and he wouldn’t miss this time. Once the steps got close enough, Jesse whirled the top half of his body and pulled._

A screaming heart monitor and steady hands greeted him into the waking world. Looking around with wild eyes, Jesse faced his new intruder. The man with much darker complexion and a beanie landing on his head. The once brown eyes that were filled with hatred, were now replaced black ones that were glazed over in a bad combination of panic and fear. The outside air was replaced by a lonely hospital scene, and the agonizing eye was now patched under a layer of gauze.

This was not home. Sighing quietly, barely audible over the thundering of his heart beat, Jesse leaned back down onto his stiff bed. Commander Reyes removed his hands immediately and gave the boy a once over. Avoiding the gaze, Jesse stared at the white wall next too him, trying to convince the flush of embarrassment from showing on his cheeks.

“You... You talk in your sleep.”

It was a simple fact. Jesse glanced slightly as the man took a step further away from the bedding. Rolling his good eye to the best of his abilities, Jesse fumbled again with the restraints on his hands. Useless, he thought bitterly to himself. Deciding to amuse himself instead of trying to get out, a light snicker fell on his lips.

“Yea’, av’ also been told I scream in it, too. So better be per-pared, boss.” 

Stealing a glance over at his new commander, he was surprised to find his casual joking was not met with the same reaction. Instead, Reyes’ eyes widened in worry and a calloused hand was held firmly over his mouth. The lines in the older man’s face dropped in what could only be recognized as panic. The snicker stopped dryly in his throat.

It was a joke. Only partially true, but his new commander didn’t need to know that. Why couldn’t he just take some light hearted banter?

“It was a joke, Jefe.” The words that came out sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather then Reyes. “Jokes, ya know. Pokin’ fun.” The sentence turned into a quiet mumble as the older man removed his hand and placed it on his goatee. His eyes were still coated in worry, but more in a way that made Jesse just want to stop talking. Or disappear completely, that would work too.

The silence between the two lasted longer then Jesse would call comfortable. Rather far from it. This silence was suffocating to such a measure, McCree feel as if he could choke on the mere tension of it. Trying to prevent this from lasting any longer, he cleared his throat, which elicited a slight eyebrow raise from Reyes.

“So, why are you back, anyway? Didn’t you ‘ave paperwork to fill out?” 

The older man eyes lingered on Jesse for a second more before he grabbed a small tablet from his hoodie’s front pocket. Quickly swiping upwards at the screen until he apparently ended on the screen he wanted. It was some sort of database, from the professionalism of it and they plain absences of any sort of creativity. In the dead center of the web page was a search bar, with the words, “Jesse McCree.” Under the bar, thick red blocky letters spelled out, “No known records.”

When McCree had signed his life away to the commander of Blackwatch, the man simply said he needed to do some paperwork before Jesse would be released into his custody or even be registered to become an agent. In hindsight, McCree really should have expected this. 

“Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Athena’s database. So, care to tell me why you don’t have a birth certificate?

“I wasn’t born.” 

If he could kick his own ass, there would be no doubt he would have beaten himself halfway into next year. 

“McCree, really?” Even the commander had nothing witty to say at that sad excuse for a reasoning. Flushing red and grabbing absently at the blankets, Jesse bit his lower lip. What excuse did he have? The commander did not let up on the question, slightly shaking the tablet in the air and sending the teenager a demanding scowl. The red blush covered Jesse’s face faded only slightly to reveal such a tired expression that it made the rest of his body slouch.

“It’s…” He paused, nervously biting again at his lip. He didn’t want to say it, refused to acknowledge _that._ Not after everything he did to drown it out. Not after how many bullets it took to get rid of all of the scum. Not-

“It’s?” Reyes snapped Jesse out of his thoughts. Waving the lit screen again, a bit more harshly, Jesse swallowed down a thick bile in his throat. Reyes didn’t know. How would he even know of _him._

“It’s...Joel.” Even with a basic reasoning, the words felt vile on his lips. Reyes studied him for a moment, then typed the name on the screen. The device gave a couple of seconds to load then booted up the same screen of, “No Known Records.” The commander sighed heavily then turned his demanding gaze back to Jesse. “No person named Joel McCree.” 

Fidgeting hands absently tried to grab onto the binding encasing them. Tearing at his lower lip, Jesse’s eyes slanted into a scowl. At who? That was a question he didn’t have an answer to. “Not McCree…It’s...It’s Morricone.” And that felt even worse, even bad enough to feel the annoying itch of oncoming tears.

The commander didn’t look up from his rapid tapping to see McCree furiously blink away the oncoming tears. Oh, how he wished he could just wipe them away. This damn hand restrictions were getting on his nerves, along with the fucking eye cotton. 

“There’s two…” The commander drifted off as he scrolled through files at an inhuman speed. Jesse watched as the man’s eyes flickered rapidly between documents and spreadsheets. Since Reyes had turned the tablet back into his line of view, Jesse couldn’t comprehend what anything said. After a couple of beats of silence, Reyes eyes widened. Bringing his hand up to press it into his mouth and shielding his face, the man’s eyes wandered slowly to look at McCree. 

Unable to meet the man’s gaze, McCree turned his attention to the steady rise of the heart rate monitor. Blinking away more tears, the teenager barely mumbled out, “No, there’s not. There’s one.” The words meant to be delivered with some sort of authority, but boy, did they sound stupid when his voice choked out mid-sentence. Letting anger pool in his lower gut and hot on his tongue, Jesse pulled again at his wrist bounding. 

“There’s one.” He said with a bit more finality then last time, meeting his eye with Reyes’. He knew the man saw the telltale sign of tears, but he just didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed about it. 

“You have yer’ answer. Now get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long hiatus everyone!!! My life got a bit hectic and it made it hard to work ontop of the fact that it drained me a lot. But don't worry, everything will be back on track soo yeah. but in other news, have McCree give some insight on a past and Gabe being a trying man

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnddd sorry if it's not the greatest. Im still working on a fluent writing style and how the story will progress. so sorry if this is iffy, but leave a kudos or comment if you wanna,,, so,, goodbai!!


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